


Captain on His Knees

by nsfwordwitch (vulpineRaconteur)



Category: Marvel (Movies)
Genre: BDSM, Bad BDSM Etiquette, F/M, First Time, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-04
Updated: 2012-12-04
Packaged: 2017-11-20 06:53:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/582527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vulpineRaconteur/pseuds/nsfwordwitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Per a prior proposition, Steve comes to Natasha to have her hurt him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Captain on His Knees

**Author's Note:**

> I am NOT a BDSM expert! Not by a long shot! I try to be good about it, but I put the "Bad BDSM Etiquette" tag on there just in case. If I've made some truly embarrassing error, please, please tell me.

“I can see why it would come down to me, your last resort,” Natasha said. “Your pain tolerance must be pretty high at this point. Your average partner couldn’t quite get you there, could they? Steve?”

His eyes flick to her face when she says his name, then away again. He’d just been in a meeting with Fury and some people on screens. He was getting used to all the people on screens. But he’d come straight to Natasha from there, because the stress had gotten to him, and because she’d invited him.

“I’m not interested in story time, Natasha, but yes. I haven’t exactly gotten what I wanted.” He shifted his feet, twisting his mask in his hands. Every small detail of Natasha’s Spartan quarters in S.H.I.E.LD. headquarters was interesting to him, anything to look at other than her face.

“Steve. Look at me.” He wandered in her direction, first her bare feet, up to her sweatpants cut off at the knees, to the loose sleeveless shirt, and finally, agonizingly, to her face. “We’ve discussed the specifics already. I need you to tell me right now if you want this. Nothing’s going to happen you don’t want. Do you want me to hurt you, Captain?”

For a moment he said nothing. “Yes. Yes pl-- Yes ma’am.”

“Good. Lock the door, then get on your knees there.” She pointed to the floor at the foot of her bed. She walked over to her duffel bag and began to rummage around in it. She extracted several items and returned to where he waited. “You’d better take the uniform off if you don’t want it ruined.”

He pulled the shirt off. As soon as the sleeves were clear of his wrists, she had them wrapped in ropes, and then the ropes to the metal bed frame. He felt her hand softly on his back as she leaned down, her face next to his ear. “This is your last chance to say no. Like we discussed, I’m not going to stop until we’re done.” Steve’s stomach clenched and he felt a twitch in his already erect cock.

“Yes, do it.”

Instantly, Natasha’s soft touch was gone and she was standing behind him, unwrapping a supple leather whip. “I know you’re pretty green in this area, Captain, so I want to give you some advice. This isn’t about love. This isn’t even necessarily about sex. It’s not unusual for someone like you to have a person who loves them, and a person who hurts them. I’m here to hurt you. Although, just to be safe….” She leaned forward again and Steve gasped as she grabbed his whole package and eased the stretchy edge of his pants underneath it. “We did already establish you didn’t want your uniform ruined.”

When she had stood up again but hadn’t said another word, Steve began to wonder if he was going to have any warning or—

There was a tiny part of a second where he heard the whip before the pain tore across his back and he cried out, as much in shock as anything else. The second lash was all pain. By the third he was grunting, and humiliated to hear a whine in his voice. Each time, he thought he was ready for it, but each time he was wrong. His vision, limited to the clean white sheets on Natasha’s bed, was a riot of stars and he was unable to hear anything other than his own pitiful cries.

Natasha paused. He realized, with surprise, that his face was slick with tears and sweat. His body had slumped to the ground, and he was now dangling from the bed frame.

“Back on your knees, Steve.” He complied, and without warning the assault began again. The lashes came with greater frequency now, and he started to feel it, inside himself, the building feeling, the too-much feeling. With a final ferocious cry, he came hard, and snapped the ropes around his wrists.

Steve lay crumpled on the floor, sobbing into his torn-up wrists. After some time, he felt Natasha’s hand on his shoulder. “C’mon, let’s clean you up.” She led him to the attached bathroom and sat him down on the floor. As he wiped the tears, sweat and spit off his face, she applied antiseptic to the angry stripes on his back.

“I didn’t think…this would be part of it,” he said, muffled by the washcloth.

“Of course. I have to take responsibility for what I do.” She paused. “So, how was it?”

He laughed, then winced at the stinging of his back. “It was perfect, Natasha. But maybe next time, stronger rope.”


End file.
